If Only For One Night
by carolinagirl919
Summary: AU-ish Carter and Reese ignore every risk just to spend one night together.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story is a better late than never belated birthday gift for PiscesChikk. She asked for a one-shot for Careese in a scenario like the movie Out of Sight (starring Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney). The scene from the movie is where they pretend to be different people for one night instead of the fugitive bank robber and U.S. Marshal they really are. I hope you enjoy.

Author's Note II: For anyone waiting on an update on any of my other fics, I promise to update them soon. Life has very much gotten in the way. Thanks for understanding and the nudges to continue. Also, this story is unbeta'd so please excuse any errors you find.

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or Out of Sight. Story is for entertainment purposes only.

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"Can I buy you a drink?"

Joss Carter looked up to see a man of average height, average build, and below average looks. She saw his nervousness and mentally gave him an A for effort in his attempt to approach her, but right now all she wanted was to be left alone with the drink she currently had and her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, but I'd really like to have a quiet night with a drink," she replied in a light and polite tone, hoping that he'd just leave and go back to his friends.

Instead of leaving, he took a seat across the table and began to yammer on and on about his sales job of meeting different vendors for some new margarita mix and she soon found her temper getting the best of her. "Listen," she started, cutting him off in the middle of his story, "get lost. Leave." He sat there, mouth agape in surprise at her less than polite rebuff of his advances. He finally got the message and left to go back to the bar with his friends.

Joss took deep breath and released it slowly before she took a sip of her bourbon. As she looked out to the Detroit skyline, she was once again lost in thought. She had seen and experienced a lot in her years as a detective for the NYPD, but she had never dealt with a perp quite like this. Maybe perp wasn't the best word to use to describe him, her _man in the suit_ , but that particular handle could get a little wordy at times. Maybe she could call him a _hero._ There were a number of people who'd say he was. She wasn't sure if she was one of them.

Hero... Hero? She tossed the word around in her mind for a bit. Even whispered it softly to get a feel for it. Hmm... Nah, that's overkill. Sure he'd saved lives and had even "gift-wrapped" a few street punks and dealers for her with enough evidence to lock them away, but could she really call him a hero? She barely knew him, didn't even know his last name. When she stopped actively chasing after him, he took it as an indication that she was interested in taking part in his crusade.

Oh yeah, he had tried to get her to join him in his little vigilante endeavor, all clean shaven and smooth; handsome as sin in a lavender shirt with a slick smile and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. He was just so... arrogant and smug. He'd acted like it was a game of cat and mouse between them and she wasn't one for games. Joss Carter was a woman who would not be trifled with and in the end, she'd declined his offer. She had maintained her distance and mainly looked the other way at times when she should have locked his ass up. She'd thought it was for the best since her role as a cop had limitations that a _vigilante_ didn't have.

Vigilante? Hmmm... At one point that would have been an apt description for him, until he'd caught the attention of the Feds. Special Agent Donnelly had been relentless in his mission to catch her _man in the suit_ and on a fateful day over three weeks ago, he'd finally got his man. The man in the suit had been arrested, fingerprinted, and booked along with three other men. Donnelly had asked her if she could identify him, the man she had been "chasing down" for nearly a year now. She'd told him she couldn't, but that was a lie. A big fat whopper of a lie and she had a sneaking suspicion that Donnelly could see through her lie. He'd held the _suspects_ at Riker's under the guise of the Patriot Act until they got back the results of the prints and DNA samples.

Suspect? No, that still didn't quite fit. His prints, DNA, and background story during their tense interrogation checked out. According to the FBI database and extensive research on every person in his background, John Warren was exactly who he had said he was... Until the fire alarms went off and there was an unusual power outage at Riker's. There was a prison riot and many men were injured, including Warren. Joss was certain in her belief that the melee had been orchestrated by former mobster Carl Elias. Due to the severity of his injuries, Warren had to be transferred from Riker's to the nearest medical facility. But neither the ambulance nor Warren ever made it to the hospital making him the most wanted _fugitive_ in the tri-state area.

Fugitive? Yeah, that's a dead ringer for what he was right now but that still didn't fit. Donnelly had included her in the task force to hunt him down. He had even promised her a position with the FBI after the search was over and Warren was in custody once and for all. They'd been tracking him down for nearly two weeks and each new lead would guide them to a dead end. It always seemed like he was two, maybe even three steps ahead.

They had received a tip that brought them to Detroit, but it appeared that tip led them to yet another dead end. Donnelly had wrapped things up in the briefing this afternoon and everyone in the task force was set to leave in the morning once again, licking their wounds. Joss sighed in frustration before taking another sip of her drink. She didn't know if Donnelly was either too stupid or too stubborn to realize that they were getting played by Warren. Even if he had been in this godforsaken city, which Joss knew for a fact that he hadn't, he would have left town before they even got here.

Hero, vigilante, suspect, fugitive. There was no label you could put on him. He was all of the above, yet none of these labels were a perfect fit. They looked good on paper, but rang false in person, just like the last name of his alias. Warren. In the interrogation room, what he told her felt true, matched what Donnelly could find, but she knew something was off. Warren was more than some random businessman in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a man with a mysterious past on a path to redemption. He was simply just...

"John?" It was like déjà vu with this man. Once again he sat across from her with that arrogant, smug, self-serving smile and blue eyes filled with amusement. _No lavender shirt this time_ , she thought with a bit of disappointment.

"I hear you and Donnelly have been searching high and low for me all over Detroit. I figured I'd fly out to see why there was such a fuss. I just checked in and lucked out seeing you here." He reached across the table and grazed her free hand with his fingers.

It was a simple touch, but with his proximity, the atmosphere of the hotel bar, the lights twinkling in the skyline, and the beginning flurries of snow, it felt very romantic. She felt a spark and wondered if he felt it too. With his other hand, he took her highball glass and took a sip of her remaining bourbon before setting it back on the table and sliding it into her hands, touching her once more.

She said nothing, still reeling from seeing him here. He was playing with fire, and taking unnecessary risks. It's what got him caught and arrested in the first place. It was a bold move, cocky but incredibly sexy. She wondered if the size of his ego lived up to the size of his... What the hell was wrong with her? She should be arresting him, not wondering how big his dick was.

"Bourbon? Hmm, I pegged you as more of a gin and tonic kind of woman." He leaned in closer to her over the table to meet her eyes, drawing her in.

Not being able to resist the pull, she leaned forward as well until their faces were inches apart. "Only when the mood hits."

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and softly caressed her face, slowly letting his fingers run down her neck. His touch was slight, barely there; but her skin warmed with his touch. Either she needed to drink less bourbon or she needed to get laid. It had been months, shit nearly a year since she'd had someone to scratch her itch. The man sitting across from her, so close that she could lean forward and taste the bourbon on his lips, would be a great option in another lifetime. But in this lifetime, sleeping with him would be the equivalent of playing with matches sitting in a tub of alcohol. She was bound to get burned.

"How'd you find me? How'd you know I was here?" Joss knew it was an empty question, but she had to ask.

She didn't bother with asking him why he took the risk of showing up here with her. The fact that he even approached her let her know that he'd been here for quite some time, hiding in plain sight, watching her. The thought of him watching her didn't damper her attraction to him. It turned her on. She promptly sat back in her chair to put some much needed space between them.

"A little birdie told me," he replied stoically, but she could read the playfulness in his eyes.

Joss looked around the bar to see if anyone was watching them. She knew there wasn't anyone around, he was too smart for that, but she needed an excuse to not look at him. "You shouldn't be here John," she said softly.

John sighed. "Okay, let's start over. Can we start over?"

She looked at him in confusion, trying to figure out what game he was playing. "What? John—"

"Who's John? I'm Gary, just a salesman passing through town. And you are?"

He was flirting with her. He was pretending to be someone else for one night and he wanted her to come along for the ride. He wanted her to be there with him in this small world he'd created for himself. For just one night. Could she do that? Would it be worth the risk? What would happen after tonight? He'd still be on the run and she'd still be pretending to want to catch him, throwing Donnelly off his scent. But would he want to see more of her? Would she want to see more of him? She gave herself a mental shake. _Get it together, Joss. It's not that serious. Get your itch scratched._

John looked at her expectantly, waiting for her reply. Waiting on her to buy into this idea of role play and pretending to be who they weren't. Pretending to be two strangers without baggage hooking up in a hotel bar.

"I'm... Loretha," she finally answered with a smirk. "But my friends call me Cookie." Fuck it, she was going to have a whole lotta fun with this. Consequences be damned.

"Cookie, huh?" he asked with an amused grin. "So what brings you to Detroit, Cookie?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. He's very elusive. Can't ever get a hold of him. He always seems to slip out of my grasp."

"Slippery motherfucker, isn't he?" His grin was wider than ever.

"Yeah, he's a real asshole," Joss replied with narrowed eyes. "But I'd rather not talk about work. I don't care what you're here to sell and I don't want to think about the... what was it?" She snapped her fingers. "Ah yes, the slippery motherfucker."

"Well what _do_ you want to talk about?"

She leaned forward again, closer to him now than she had been moments earlier. "I think we should take the rest of this conversation upstairs. Don't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator ride was quiet and they walked down the corridor in companionable silence. The anticipation of what she was about to do had Joss on edge and she wondered how John could look so cool, calm, and collected at a time like this. Then she wondered just how many women he'd done this with and didn't like the twinge of jealousy she felt at the thought of him doing this with someone else.

John slid the card key in and opened the door to his room. It was the presidential suite. _Of course he'd have the most expensive suite_ , she thought. The space was expansive and luxurious, designed for comfort and relaxation. What grabbed her attention was the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling lights of the city. It was an amazing view, made cozy with the gentle, yet increasingly heavy snowfall. While John walked around the suite, turning on lamps here and there, she walked over to the windows to take in the view. She wanted to clear her mind so that she wouldn't think too much about what she was doing.

Joss felt his presence behind her moments later. She turned around to see him with two glasses of a dark amber liquid in his hands. He offered her a drink and she accepted, taking a sip and realizing it was the same bourbon from downstairs.

"You really do like to chase trouble," she joked, "raiding the minibar. Or you've got a lot of walking around money to spend. Vigilantism paying you well?"

"It has its perks," he shot back with a smile.

He softly placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her away from the windows to take a seat on the couch. He sat close to her, incredibly close. Their bodies were turned towards one another, knees touching with any subtle movement. He was in her space, looking at her appreciatively, meeting her eyes with a heated stare. She could feel her body begin to warm up and it wasn't because of the bourbon.

"I came here looking for you. For all you know, I could have a SWAT team waiting for me to give the signal. I could be bait."

"But there is no SWAT team, and you aren't bait." He took a sip of his bourbon, never taking his eyes off her.

Unable to withstand the intensity of his stare, she turned away. "How can you be so sure? Why do you trust me?"

"It was worth the risk. _You're_ worth the risk, Joss."

"I don't take risks, John. This isn't some game. You risking your freedom for me doesn't make sense."

"You're right, it doesn't make sense. It's just..." He put his glass on the coffee table in front of them and took his time to explain. "It's like when you see someone for the first time and in that moment it feels like you've known them forever even though you've just met. It's brief, and for a few seconds there's this recognition, as if they feel it too. But before you know it, the person is gone and it's too late to do anything about it. After that, you go on with life, dealing with whatever happens next, but in the back of your mind, that person is always there. And you start to wonder what if."

"What if?" she asked, knowing exactly what he meant, but needing to hear him say it.

"Yes, what if. What if things had been different? What if I had met you under different circumstances? What if we were just two strangers walking past each other one day? Would I have stopped? Would you have seen me? Have you ever thought about that?"

She had thought about it. More than once, especially after Riker's. She wondered if he was really John Warren the businessman not John Reese the fugitive vigilante, what would their relationship be like? Would they even know each other? It would be easy to be attracted to a man like Warren. But the man sitting in front of her, wanted by the FBI, CIA, and other scary three letter organizations around the world? That wasn't easy.

"Maybe," she replied weakly.

"Maybe?" He took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the table next to his. Taking both her hands in his, he asked again. "Tell me, Joss. Have you ever thought about how things would be between us, if we'd met under different circumstances?"

"Yes," she swallowed, "I have."

There was a calm silence as they both let what was said between them set in. He reached to touch her face, as gently as he had downstairs. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, enjoying this quiet moment with him. Enjoying it because she knew, they both knew, this wouldn't last.

"You know... sooner or later..." _this is gonna come to an end and it won't be good for either of us,_ she finished in her head. She opened her eyes and met his. "You really know how to wear a suit," she finished playfully, wanting to change the subject and lighten the mood.

His smile was soft and understanding, but he still pushed. "That's not what you were going to say."

She reached for her glass of bourbon before leaving the couch and walked back towards the windows, facing away from him. "That night you saved me from Bottlecap... You could have let him kill me. You didn't have to be there. I'd been chasing you down for months before that night. And you drove me home and took care of me. Tended to my injuries and made sure I was okay. You didn't have to do any of that, but you did. Why?"

"I don't really have an answer," he paused. Joss waited patiently for him to continue, allowing him to gather his thoughts. "I just knew that I liked what you did to help people, _truly_ help them without expecting anything in return. And I knew you were someone the world couldn't afford to lose. You were someone, _I_ couldn't afford to lose."

She heard him get up from the couch, and she soon felt the heat from his body against hers. He was so close she could smell his cologne. It was woodsy and spicy. It was very much him and he smelled damn good.

"I just want..." Joss began, but the words wouldn't come out. She felt him wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She took another sip of bourbon as she leaned into him, hoping that the alcohol would give her liquid courage.

"What do you want, Joss? Tell me what you want." His breath was warm as his lips brushed lightly against the shell of her ear. He reached for the glass in her hand and placed it on the dark wooden desk next to the window.

"I want... just for tonight... I want," she moaned when she felt his lips on her neck. His soft kisses were driving her crazy with desire. She wanted him, if only for one night. She just wanted to be with him.

Downstairs at the bar there was a spark that lit a slow burn. The longer she stayed in the room with him, the more he freely touched her... it was like he was systematically stoking the flames inside her until she burned and ached with need for him.

His hands slid up and down the sides of her body before settling on her hips. His grip tightened and he urged her to answer. To say aloud what he already knew she wanted, because he wanted the very same thing. He pulled her hips back so she could feel him and how much he needed her. "Tell me..."

She turned around to face him, her brown eyes darkened by her desire. "Tonight, I just want you."

John wrapped his arms around her tightly and slanted his lips over hers. She moaned under his passionate advance as his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened to him voluntarily. He plunged inside, tasting and caressing her, his hands moving freely all over her body. He tasted like bourbon and sex, a lethal combination that was potent and addicting.

"I want you so much right now." He bit her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth before meshing their mouths fully again.

As his lips moved down to kiss and taste the curve of her neck, his fingers quickly undid the buttons on her jacket and slipped it off her shoulders before undoing his own and allowing it to fall on the floor. He nipped at the hollow of her throat and all conscious thought left her as their mouths met again in a heated kiss.

Her fingers began undo the buttons of his shirt until they met the bare skin of his chest. Continuing to ravish her mouth, he eased the zipper down her back and pulled away so he could slip the dress off her shoulders. As soon as her bra was exposed to his gaze, he crouched down to cup one lace encased breast with his hand while his teeth began to nibble and tease the other through the material. Her head fell back and she keened beneath his ministrations, her fingers running through his salt and pepper hair. She felt the heat of her want flow and pulse through her center. His mouth left her chest and traveled upwards, his tongue and lips stroking the flesh of her throat before wrapping her in his embrace and capturing her mouth for another kiss. They both groaned at the contact of heated skin against skin.

At that moment it felt like their clothes couldn't come off fast enough. Through the haze of lust, she managed to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. As she lowered his zipper, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the article of clothing join the others on the floor. The rest of her dress was pulled down past her hips to end up on the floor. The only thing that remained was her lace panties, thigh high stockings, and her heels.

"Beautiful," he whispered, almost reverently as his eyes drank in every part of her. He kneeled in front of her and kissed the sensitive skin beneath her belly button. Slowly he removed her shoes and stockings, kissing down and back up her legs along the way.

Joss trembled under his touch, but she wanted more. "John please," she begged, needing him, wanting him.

John pulled her panties down to her ankles, teasing her with wet kisses up her legs and inner thighs. He continued to tease her, blowing hotly against her slick folds, but did not make any contact with his mouth. She pulled his hair, her hands raking aimlessly over his body to get a grip on him. Managing to get a hand around the fabric of his open shirt, she pulled him up to stand.

Without her heels, she was noticeably shorter, but her strength and commanding presence was still there. She pulled on his shirt again, forcing him to lean down to her. She captured his lips in an aggressively heated kiss. "I don't need you to tease me, John. I need you to fuck me. Can you do that?"

He placed his arms around her and lifted her as she placed her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Turning to his right, he placed her on the nearby desk. "I think that can be arranged," he answered smugly.

He tugged his shirt completely off and pulled down his underwear and trousers before tugging her toward him, capturing her lips again, and entered her in one smooth move.

She cried out at the unexpected invasion. His mouth caught her moans and whimpers as his tongue swept across hers and he pulled her to the very edge of the desk as he pushed inside her, finding a rhythm between them. Her legs locked around his hips as his hand palmed her breast and his thumb teased at her nipple. As good as it was, there was something missing. She whimpered in need against his mouth as she sought more friction but their angle was off. She moved to reach between them, seeking to give herself the relief she needed, but he caught her hand as it left his neck. "Please," she pleaded, panting against his mouth.

As John pulled out of her, silencing her protests with a quick kiss, he kicked away his pants and then lifted her off the desk. Her arms and legs wrapped around him as he moved them over to the floor to ceiling windows with the view that she had been admiring just a few moments before. Joss gasped in shock as he pressed her back against the icy cold glass and entered her again, thrusting deep inside, his mouth sucking and biting at her throat as her head fell against the window.

There was something so incredibly erotic about being pressed against the frigid windowpane that added to everything she was feeling. Her head swam and she felt so out of control, she wanted to scream and say filthy things that she would never say in a million years because he brought that out of her. This night between them, this one night was all they had and she wasn't going to hold anything back. She clawed at his back with each powerful thrust, filling her completely and stretching her wide. It had never felt like this with anyone else before and she knew it would never be like this with any other man. As though he could hear her thoughts, he groaned then thrust deeper, harder.

He took her mouth again and whispered against her lips, "Mine. Tonight, you're mine. You'll always be mine…" This was primal, forbidden, and raw; it wasn't just sex for one night. He was claiming her, marking her as his.

So many sensations flowed over her and through her at the same time; the cold of the window and the heat of his body all around her, the power of his muscles bunching under her fingers as she held onto him, and the feeling of being so exposed as he slipped in and out of her, their bodies making wet slapping noises that were almost obscenely loud in the silence of the suite.

She arched her back away from the glass so he could capture her nipple with his mouth. Everything he was doing to her felt so damn good. His touch, his stroke, that way he moved inside her was making moan and whisper words of erotic encouragement as he worked his way deeper and deeper inside of her. "Fuck me harder," she gasped. "Deeper. Deeper baby, yes..."

She tightened her legs around his hips and ground her sex into him, making him groan in pleasure. He bit her nipple a little too hard, the slight pain causing her to hiss only to then moan in pleasure as he soothed her with his tongue.

As he continued to pound into her, she rolled her head to the side and could see the entire city below them. Logically, she knew that the windows were mirrored and no one could actually see anything. At best, all anyone would be able to see was maybe the faint outline of their bodies. An exhibitionist thrill ran through her, causing her to clench tightly around him. He hit something inside of her, some secret place deep within that sent pleasure shooting through her spine. Her arousal began to flow and she felt her thighs go slick as she dripped around him but she felt no shame or embarrassment, only the overwhelming need to have more of him.

"God, I can feel you…" he groaned then scraped his teeth against her neck. "You're so wet for me. So tight... fuck."

He shifted his angle slightly and she felt another spike of pleasure as he pounded into her g-spot. She moaned and shivered; he shut his eyes tight then took her mouth in another kiss that she could feel down to her bones. He broke away from the kiss and buried his head in her neck, hitching her higher up as he uttered another muffled, "Fuck! God, Joss..."

Something about him saying her name like that just did it for her. With a loud cry she came, her entire body tight and quivering as he drove into her like a man possessed. Within seconds of her climax, he came with a guttural moan as though her orgasm was the trigger he had been waiting for. She clutched her arms around him tightly as he leaned into her, both his hands slapping flat against the glass, his body shuddering into her own.

They were both panting, trying to catch their breath. "Wow," she said breathlessly. "That was—"

"Amazing," he finished.

He dropped his mouth to her shoulder in an open-mouthed kiss as he carried her over to the large king-sized bed in the bedroom and laid her down. He kissed her again before walking into the bathroom. She stretched languidly on the bed, enjoying plush softness of the mattress compared to the cold hard glass of the window she was up against just moments before. With a satisfied smile, she watched him as he walked away, admiring the play of muscles across his broad shoulders that were marked by the fine pink lines of shallow scratches she had left behind.

She heard the sound of water and a few seconds later John emerged with a damp washcloth in hand. He knelt down beside her and quickly cleaned her thighs and genitals gently and with no hint of embarrassment. He tossed the washcloth towards the entrance of the bathroom and they both pulled back the covers on the bed.

Settling under the covers in a spooning position, they just laid there in silence and enjoyed the presence of the other. That amiable silence, however, was short lived.

"So what happens now?"

She shut her eyes, not yet ready to deal with the aftermath of their actions tonight. They had sex, it felt good, she was a willing participant, and she didn't want to make it more than what it was or more than it ever could be.

"Now... We cuddle. And later... Round two."


End file.
